


Don't Call Me Dulcinea

by Marvelicious (Jayjaybe)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, Loki is a bit of a woobie here too, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/pseuds/Marvelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki hasn't so much as touched himself since he found out the truth about his heritage, but a run-in with SHIELD forces him to confront himself. Cue a bit of help and Magical-Healing-Cock from his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Me Dulcinea

He’s smirking when they bring him into containment on the hellicarrier. In fact, he’s smirking right up to the moment they close the door, and with a whoosh of air Loki’s undone.

The god can feel himself revert; if he were to look down Loki would see the blue skin that marks him for the horror he is, but he doesn’t look. He can’t look. The guards though, they pause for only a moment in front of the huge glass enclosure that he’s to be caged in before they turn on Loki, seemingly unaffected by the terrible red eyes and frostbitten skin. They strip him down with no heed to any of that, and Loki can’t even find it in himself to protest – he shuts his monstrous eyes and does his best not to see what’s happening as they manhandle their god.

Loki’s naked when he’s finally shoved through into the glass prison, too vulnerable, too exposed, and all too aware of how hideous he is. Loki curls up into a ball, willing them not to see him brought down like this, trying to cover what he can of himself even to his own eyes. This skin is foreign – it provides no comfort from the stares, only the remembrance of lies and terror and so many nightmares.

There are cameras too; a whirring noise faintly pricking at Loki’s ears as tape is collected of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s captive ice giant, the awful beast occupying the cage meant for one just like him. He flicks a hand out desperately, attempting to fling a bit of magic at the thing and destroy it – this can’t be on record – Not him. Not like this. The only thing that happens is that Loki catches a glimpse of his own scarred, blue arm covered in the markings of a monstrous being. No magic accompanies it – only a hollow feeling that signals where it should be, because they’ve stripped Loki of that too.

The arm darts back in toward him before Loki can absolutely lose it, and he shuts his eyes again more tightly than before.

It’s still no good.

His own figure is what haunts him when he closes his eyes, the cold feel of plastic beneath him and air on his skin enough to keep Loki in the present. He knows exactly where he is and what he looks like, and now so do all of them. Just like when Odin finally told him, revulsion wells up in Loki’s gut like he could vomit, and so much shame that it feels like he should be able to die from it. He’s a disgusting monster that needs to be put down. Looking like he does – being who he is – there’s no way he could ever be more than that, and now S.H.I.E.L.D.’s going to make sure he gets what he deserves.

There’s some sort of commotion going on – Loki can hear the confusion filtering dimly through the walls of his prison, but he doesn’t look up. He can’t – or risk seeing the blue-tinged shoulders to either side of him, his knees drawn up beneath his chin – better not to go there.

“I demand to know why you have treated my brother as such.” Thor’s booming voice reaches him loud and clear, and now Loki really is sick to his stomach. It’s one thing for these stupid, petty minions to see him, but not his brother, not Thor. He curls in tighter to himself, trying to cover everything he can in his shame. “You will allow me access to him.”

Loki’s reminded of begging his brother to fight him, thinking it would be the only way he could be worthy of Thor’s touch again. Because Thor will be disgusted like everyone else when he sees; he’ll regret the years they spent together, reconsider every last secret thing between them with the knowledge that his brother is an imposter and a liar and a monster.

Yet the door to his prison opens with a whoosh of air, cold breeze stinging his raw skin. Heavy footsteps crossing toward him with all of the certainty of his golden-haired brother storming into battle. “Loki.” Thor thunders, and Loki can feel the brush of his cape, can figure that he’s knelt down beside him. He draws further into himself, away from Thor until he can feel himself pressed against the glass at his back, but still his brother’s presence cannot be ignored.

“Leave me.” He tells Thor as fiercely as he can while in a position of complete and utter defeat. He can feel Thor’s eyes on him, boring beneath the markings on his skin, making him even more uneasy.

“I shall not leave you. Why do you hide brother?” He wants to know, booming voice making Loki feel even smaller.

“Don’t call me brother!” Loki finally looks up to snarl at him. The flashes of blue at the corners of his eyes spur him on in his fury – “I’m not your brother!” He’s this – this creature, glaring up into Thor’s golden face, undeserving of his misplaced loyalty. “Can you not see me at all? Have you been that blinded? I’m a monster!”

Now that he’s looking up he can see that they’ve drawn a crowd, suits and the like standing around the circumference of his prison in fascination with their trapped animal and Loki’s never felt so exposed in his life. He curls back into himself, but there is nowhere to hide from all of the stares, just the cold embarrassment rolling off of his disgusting visage. And the camera is still trained on him as well, keeping a record of his shame for everyone to see. There’s no way to hide himself, but he tries.

“You are no monster Loki.” Thor grumbles, and then Loki can hear the sound of tearing fabric. He glances up in confusion, only to see Thor pulling his crimson cape free, edges torn where it had been attached to his armor. “Here.” Before Loki can even react, Thor is pulling the fabric over him, tugging Loki to his feet in order to wrap him up in it. He goes unwillingly, but he’s no match for his brother’s strength and Thor has his way, cradling Loki against his impossibly broad chest.

Immediately he’s that much more in control of himself, pulling Thor’s cape tighter around his slim body as he faces his brother. He can pretend – for just a moment – that they’re back in Asgard together like nothing ever happened, but the truth is still there beneath the cloak, horrendous and dark. “Tell me brother, tell me where the cube is and I can take you back with me. There is no need for these men to stare at you as such.”

Loki buries his face in Thor’s shoulder at the reminder of their audience. He does not desire to see the men who gape at him like the beast he is, like one of their caged animals. “It is with Selvig.” He whispers, barely able to be heard. Loki knows defeat when he sees it and all of his energy is devoted to getting himself out of here, restoring his magic, and returning to himself the lie that he is of Asgard after all. “He is setting up the Chitauri’s portal on Stark Tower.”

He receives no warning before Thor is sweeping him up off of his feet, again pulling Loki in close to his chest, only this time the god makes to carry him out of the enclosure, steady footfalls carrying them towards the door of Loki’s prison. Loki keeps his face hidden; Thor’s magnificent cape wrapped around him like a blanket to preserve the smallest shred of dignity he has been left with. “My brother has told me where we are to find the Tesseract – I believe that should suffice for your purposes. You are to let him into my custody now.” He sounds like a true king and despite himself, Loki can’t help but feel the smallest bit proud.

There are cruel, judgmental eyes on him as Thor carries him through the crowd. Loki can feel them, but he doesn’t dare to look up. He knows what they see. Instead he breathes in the smell of ozone that overwhelms him, secure in Thor’s grasp for now.

He takes Loki back to his own quarters, as promised, and somehow the fact that Thor didn’t simply throw him off of the ship or smother him as soon as they were out of sight has him feeling oddly vulnerable. There’s a debt he’s created in allowing Thor to rescue him.

But debt or not, Thor is looking at him in a way that has Loki feeling naked once more despite the fact that he’s still wrapped up securely. “You are beautiful Loki; why do you deny it?”

He doesn’t know how to react, frozen and unsure. Thor hasn’t touched him since before it all came out, and Loki hasn’t deserved his touch since years before that. “Why do you insist on this?” He quarrels instead, “What do you see in me Thor?” All he ever does is try to push Thor away, because he can’t handle this – he can’t possibly have someone look at him the way Thor is right now, like Loki’s his whole world. It’s dangerous, and he doesn’t understand it in the least. “How can you stand to even-?”

“You are my brother.” Thor says plainly, and his intention is clear in the way his huge hands come up to Loki’s neck where he’s clutching the red fabric as if for dear life. “My beloved.” His thick fingers curl around Loki’s own, slim ones. “No matter what you do or how you look.” He’s urging Loki to drop the cover surrounding him, manhandling him once again in front of a mirror until Loki has to shut his eyes against their own red glare.

“What are you doing to me?” He demands, but Loki can’t deny that he’s quivering slightly, no idea how to react to Thor’s declarations.

“Open your eyes.” The low grumble of his voice is comforting, and Loki finds himself doing as he is told. He can see them both in the mirror: Thor standing behind a hideous monster, arms wrapped around it, head bent so that his stubble just brushes against the marked blue skin of its cheek. For his part, the ice giant looks incredibly fragile, almost able to fade away beneath the fabric of the torn cape it’s trying to hide behind. He’s not worthy to stand even in the shadow of the great man that holds him so close.

But the golden god simply bends his head, pressing a kiss to the side of the monster’s neck. Loki can feel it and he shudders. “I want you Loki. It has been too long since your presence has graced my bed.”

“There is no grace in my presence.” He allows his skin to become blisteringly cold against Thor’s, but his brother still doesn’t flinch away from him. “What game are you playing?”

“I do not wish to partake in any dalliance with you Loki,” Thor assures him, running a hand over the ridges of his face – much too gently for Loki’s comfort. “I wish to make love to you.” Even in the mirror he appears sincere though Loki is trying his best to avoid the sight of his own reflection. That’s always been his problem – he’s too brash, too sincere, too set in his ways and stubborn. And yet Thor believes everything he says, despite his foolishness.

“Do you truly wear your heart on your sleeve as such?” Loki’s voice is bitter, but he’s still trembling as he waits for Thor’s answer, his brother unusually content to simply hold him close. He’s still waiting for the ulterior motive – for the other metaphorical shoe to drop.

“Verily.”

“Then you are a fool.”

Thor hesitates, but he doesn’t look offended. Instead he sighs, a hot exhale of breath against Loki’s neck as he bends his head, and Loki could swear the corner of his mouth twitches up into an aborted smile. “Gladly, if loving you is indeed as foolish as you believe, my brother. Though I doubt I’ll ever convince you of it.”

He makes the mistake of looking back to the mirror. It shows Loki exactly what he doesn’t want to see; the pure admiration reflected in Thor’s eyes as they lock with his in the mirror, the determination in his fingers where they’re twined with Loki’s own. “No,” Loki breathes out. He may be secure in Thor’s arms, but he knows his brother, and if he does what his eyes threaten… “Please, Thor.”

It absolutely kills Loki to be left this helpless, so at the mercy of another. He hates to beg, can’t stand to grovel, but all the same; “I can’t face it,” Loki’s forced to admit, voice again not much louder than a whisper. Just the sight of his deformed face is enough to make him quake with loathing and sickness, entire body uneasy. The body that betrays him – that Loki can’t bear to so much as touch – and that Thor has convinced himself he somehow still wants, for now.

“Is it really so bad?” His golden, beautiful, brother asks in his naivety and his fingers momentarily release their grip on Loki’s, letting him have sole control over the cape for now. Instead he brushes his fingers along the ridges of Loki’s cheek, the deeper blue markings that mar his face even further. He sounds, regretful. “Is there truly no way to convince you otherwise?”

“Verily.” Loki mocks him. This has gone on for long enough – too long – already. He starts to pull away, ducking his head to avoid the blue and red in the mirror as he evades Thor’s grasp.

“Loki, wait,” He makes the mistake of turning around, stolen cape billowing around him much too much for Loki’s comfort as he faces his brother for what he intends to be the last time. Though what Loki intends, and what then happens has always been an increasingly blurry line when it comes to Thor. He knows this well.

So, that his brother looks so sad and lost, the ruler of Asgard reduced to a plaintive plea of perfect blue eyes… it’s something Loki could have easily have bargained for, and yet never avoided all the same. “Please.”

“What do you want from me?” Loki demands, hiding behind anger as usual because it’s easier to take things as an affront and explain away everything else later.

“I want to fix things between us. I want to show you that there’s nowhere I would rather have you than by my side. I wish to take you and make love to you, and then bring you home with me. You could always come home Loki,” He’s cut off suddenly the only way Loki has ever learned to shut him up – lips pressed together fiercely, Loki’s free hand secured in his hair to hold him there before he can utter any more of his determined nonsense and dangerous words.

“Mmmmph.” Thor agrees, and he breaks Loki’s hold just long enough to gasp, “Make love to me,” in such an earnest tone that is goes and blurs that line all over again.

He doesn’t even wait for a response either, because suddenly Loki finds himself being swept off of his feet for the second time in this day, losing his grip on the torn red fabric as he’s carried to the bed by a somewhat overzealous god of thunder. It slips, and Loki catches glances of awful blue skin but he screws his eyes shut and focuses on the feel of Thor’s lips beneath his. He bites at his brother’s lower lip in retaliation, because this is all his fault, but he doesn’t pull away yet. Maybe he’ll savor what he can before Thor comes to his senses.

When Thor lowers them onto the bed, it’s too late to react. Loki’s trapped between the sheets and his brother’s arms, laid completely bare under the suddenly ravenous gaze belonging to the same. He’s mortified to be seen; doesn’t even know which gender he is today, but the burn of arousal between his legs is not something Loki can deny.

Thor’s fingers skate along his skin, and Loki absorbs the touch even as he closes his eyes. He’s frozen, unable to reciprocate, because soon Thor is going to realize just how much of a beast Loki is. He’ll be disgusted. He’ll change his mind.

Loki knows exactly how this happens. He’s had it play out before, and the script never changes. “Oh.” Thor will say, expression suddenly clouded with doubt. He’s just realized what he’s doing. It will be stilted, awful, and then he’ll remember something vastly important that needs his attention immediately. “Let me – I’ll be right back,” He’ll stutter, and then his brother will be gone for good. This body is nothing like the princely form he’d worn in all of their histories together.

“So beautiful,” Thor gasps, and then his lips are moving to Loki’s neck, hands still tracing over all of the Jotun markings that disfigure his skin, steadily moving downward. His caresses are far from light, but they carry so much more weight than just that of Thor’s hands, and Loki’s suddenly afraid for nearly the first time in his existence that this right here is going to break him once and for all. He’s made a life for himself by simply surviving, and it’s all about to come crashing down on him if Thor does this only to reject him.

“Stop,” He gasps when Thor releases his mouth, hands pinning Loki’s arms at either side so that he can’t escape his brother’s ministrations. But even as Thor makes to go down on him, slipping backwards over his horrendous body as yet undeterred, the force doesn’t quite make it to Loki’s voice like he intended. Instead he’s breathless, spreading his legs, bracing himself for the rejection and craving it at the same time.

“You-” The look of shock on Thor’s face is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking as he looks up from between Loki’s legs. It’s a paradox as malicious as Loki himself, and all he’ll ever deserve.

“Eat my cunt, or dispose of me as you see fit.” He can only hold the intense eye contact for so long. His gaze darts down in time to see Thor lick his lips viciously, and then Loki lets his head fall back onto the bed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw for something else to attend to while Thor figures out his excuse.

The last thing Loki expects is a slow, deliberate stroke from bottom to top, the feel of Thor’s tongue on him enough to draw out a shaky intake of breath from in between his clenched teeth. And his brother clearly takes it as an encouragement, because he dives in without hesitation, hands finally releasing Loki to move down to his thighs, spreading him open even further.

He’s dripping wet, a mix of his own arousal and Thor’s saliva, and Loki’s soon panting into the empty expanse of the room with his pleasure. Thor’s tongue continues to plunge into his heat, circling and probing, then drawing back just long enough to swipe over his clit and drive Loki nearly mad. It’s so much more intimate than the traded blowjobs of ages past – he is inside of Loki in a way no one else has ever been – and when Loki dares to open his eyes and glance down the length of his own hated body, Thor is looking up at him with earnest eyes, never once halting in his ministrations.

He can see all of Loki – the frost giant who once called himself a prince of Asgard – laid out before him, has his face buried between his legs, but somehow Thor doesn’t seem to be deterred. He’s not running yet, at the very least.

Instead he hums in a way that sounds like pleasure, and certainly feels like it, the slight vibrations of Thor’s lips more than enough sensation to have Loki mewling for release. He pushes his hips up into Thor’s face with a vengeance, fists tangled somewhere in the bedcovers as Loki forgets himself. Never before has someone touched him like this, in a place he’s kept hidden from even himself, and it’s overwhelming.

Then Thor’s slipping a finger into Loki beside his tongue; two, then three in quick sensation, the stretch coming so quickly that there’s no way to react but gasps and moans. He’s so full, and sure Loki’s had Thor’s cock buried in him before, but that was different place, a different sensation altogether.

His brother continues to lap at his clit even as he thrusts into Loki with his fingers, tongue dancing and flicking over him in a way that can be described in no other way but maddening. “F-fuck,” He gasps, ready to beg for more if that’s what it takes for Thor to quit teasing, press in just a bit harder – make him feel it. “Thor!”

“Look at yourself,” Thor’s voice is no steadier than Loki’s, his face smeared with moisture when he looks up. His thumb takes the place of his tongue, rubbing impossibly light circles over Loki’s nub while his other fingers don’t halt in their rhythm. “So beautiful Loki – pleasure suits you.”

For once, Loki is the one to obey. His skin is tinged dark with lust when he looks down the length of his body, and the revulsion that should spark in his gut at the sight is notably absent. There are much more important things taking up his mental functions at the moment, not limited to the way Thor is slowly driving him insane, or the way the blue in his brother’s eyes reflect back the red in his own, and the fact that he can’t seem to hate any of it. That, and the part of his brain Loki tends to rely on for snarky, bitter comments seems to have shut itself off.

He is stripped of all his defenses. And frankly, Loki couldn’t care less.

“Fuck me brother.” He demands, because it’s absolutely the only thing left of him at this point. Everything he is, is straining to have Thor take him and mark him up, use him until there’s absolutely nothing left of the darkness his secrets have led Loki to cling desperately to. It’s all in Thor’s capable hands now.

“No.” Thor’s hand stills and then it’s gone, Loki left empty with no way to summon his shields back. He’s frozen as if in the ice. It’s too much – broken noises of hurt spilling from him as Loki tries to turn and hide his face.

He should have known. It was always too good to be true. And it hurts. Like a bolt of his brother’s lightning straight to his chest, he’s clenching and squirming, trying to escape, perform damage control. But then Thor is still there, caging him in with his iron form, and Loki can’t read the clues he’s giving, but he’s trying to prepare himself for the insults that must come now.

“You’re not a fuck Loki. I would never – look.” Arms to either side, trapping him, Thor catches Loki’s face between his hands and he’s still somehow gentle about it. A warm thumb brushes away a tear Loki wasn’t even aware of; he’s lost, confused, because the words and his actions don’t match up, and it’s the cruelest torture yet. “We are going to make love, my brother. My beloved.” He says.

Even with his mind whirling, it takes a moment for Loki to understand what Thor is saying, and it breaks him all over again. There’s no going back now. “Just do it,” He whines, body trembling all over and breath coming in too-quick little pants. It’s humiliating, is what it is, but he’s too far gone to do anything about it at this point.

Thor’s eyes bore into his – all consuming – and he doesn’t break their contact. There’s something reassuring in the simple gaze, a promise there that Loki could never hope to interpret. It’s enough that it’s there though; he forces himself to relax once more, to feel Thor’s cock insistent against his belly and dampening his skin at its tip. His brother moves slightly, an apology in his eyes for his own need, one that Loki promptly disregards.

His pulse is thundering in his chest, an echo of it between his legs because, Odin help him, he’s still so blissfully – horribly – in need of his brother’s touch. His brother who’s gone still again, studying Loki and refusing to move. He flushes under the scrutiny, but Loki knows this game at least. What pride he has left he leaves to fend for itself somewhere else. “Please,” Loki sounds broken even to his own ears, “Brother. Make love to me.”

The bright blue of the mighty thunderer’s eyes light up immediately, and he smiles. He shifts so that he can thumb Loki’s nipple with one hand, pebbled skin eager for his slight touch.

Loki arches up into it before he can stop himself, can’t halt the soft gasp of pleasure, because he is so fucking close to the edge that it’s nearly painful, and if Thor continues to tease him, Loki will not be held responsible for the fallout. “As soon as you admit to how beautiful you are in this manner.”

He huffs a noise of impatience, and is pleased with its effect. “Do you truly wish to be here all night?”

“If that is what it takes.” Thor tells him, but Loki can see something more in his expression that Thor tries to hide the second he realizes Loki is looking. It’s too late though – Loki can read him as clear as day. All day, and all night, longer if necessary – it’s all preferable to Thor. And as much as Loki may hate what he’s discovered himself to have been all along, he is even more to his very core, a contrary bastard. He takes pride in that.

“I am beautiful.” He tells Thor, more in the interest of hurrying things along than with any real conviction, but damn it all if he doesn’t quite dismiss the idea either. He shifts a bit, arches up again to rub himself up against Thor’s burning cock as every bit for his own pleasure as a distraction to his saintly brother. “But not above fighting dirty. I’m getting myself off if you’re not in me when I reach zero. Ten.”

Thor has the decency to look dumbfounded for about half a second, and then he’s grinning to beat the sun as he nudges Loki’s legs apart once more. “Nine.” Is the last number Loki manages, because then Thor is using his own method of silence against him, overeager tongue forcing its way between Loki’s lips.

It’s less of a battle than it is a slow, filthy tangle of flesh. Thor’s hands are everywhere they can reach; tangled in Loki’s hair one moment, gripping his hips with bruising strength, pulling a pale blue leg onto his shoulder as he plunges deep inside Loki’s waiting cunt.

The sight of his own flesh bothers Loki a lot less than he would have ever expected it should, and he goes with it. He’s dripping with need, wet enough that Thor slides into him easily despite his impressive girth, heedless of the fact that this is Loki’s first time in a way. He simply gasps when Thor bottoms out in him, clutches onto his brother’s shoulders, and digs his nails into the flesh there to leave raised crescents.

“More,” Loki demands, but his brother goes infuriatingly slow, using his incredible advantage of size and strength in order to control the situation. But his terms or not, Loki does everything he can to spur Thor on. He clenches around the heat inside of him, licks his way up from Thor’s collarbone to his neck, presses kisses to his neck that make his brother shudder with need. He’s not so steady now, and when Loki starts up with a litany of filth in his ear, he can feel Thor shudder, the reverberation of his moans.

“Must you cheapen this act?” He grunts, hips snapping forward into where Loki is eager and open for him. “Much as I truly appreciate your silver tongue, I do not wish you to degrade yourself.”

Loki ignores him. He needs some semblance of control here, and if that’s how it is, so be it. Sex at least, is something he understands beyond a shadow of a doubt – how it can be used to control, manipulate, even torture. Much as Thor claims to desire ‘making love’ he’s holding himself back as if it’s somehow for Loki’s benefit. Touching, but he’s not quite that fragile.

“What brother? Don’t want me spread out like a whore for you, fuck me until I scream your name?” He grins into Thor’s neck before he bites, but when he tries to slip a hand down between them, Thor grabs both of his wrists in one hand, raises them over Loki’s head and promptly pins him to the mattress. Well fuck. Loki hadn’t known it was possible for him to be any more turned on and desperate for it, but as usual Thor seems to delight in proving him wrong.

He pants, nearly breathless with every thrust coming increasingly faster, “Like that Thor? Hold me down, want me to beg? Oh, fuck, please!” His brother’s eyes are locked on his, nothing but oceans of desire surrounding his blown pupils.

“Loki,” He gasps, hips stuttering for a moment before he finds his rhythm once more. Thor leans forward, making him feel the stretch in his thigh, and for a moment their mouths hang suspended within inches of each other, electricity crackling through the air with the sudden reemergence of the tension that’s been there all along. “Beloved, kiss me,” Thor begs, but he leaves the gap between them up to Loki, until the trickster can do nothing but surge up to meet his brother, lips and tongues meshing in a way that leaves them both gasping into each other’s mouths.

They roll their hips in time with one another, working as one single entity, breathing each other’s air, and suddenly the distinctions between who’s who are so blurry that Loki can’t even draw the line anymore. He’s lost for not the first time this night.

That too is alright though, because he can feel his orgasm building in him with every thrust, every clench, every brush of his clit against Thor’s pelvis, his balls slipping like velvet against Loki’s ass. It’s all too much and will never be enough, until suddenly Loki’s bearing down hard, a cry tearing from his throat as he charges over the edge without a backward glance.

He’s too far lost in the sensations of his own pleasure to feel it, but there’s no mistaking the look on Thor’s face when he comes as well, letting go of Loki’s wrists in an instant. His hands fly back to Loki’s face, cup his cheeks and hold him there so that there’s no escaping it. “Beautiful,” Thor gasps; his eyes locked on Loki’s still, “Beautiful. My beloved. My love.”

 

In the aftermath, Loki wonders that it’s too bad they’re on opposing sides.

He sneaks from Thor’s chambers after his brother has fallen into slumber, slipping from his arms with little difficulty. He is every bit in love with his golden hero as Loki’s been since he was old enough to feel such things, but it changes nothing. Perhaps one day he will make Thor proud – but until then he remains the simpering little puppy too in love with his beautiful brother to cast off his shadow.

It is better this way. Verily. But it does not stop him from pausing in front of Thor’s mirror to snatch his fallen cape.

When he stands, Loki dares for once to face himself, tracing cum streaked legs up to cruel red eyes. He’s not afraid of the weak little ice giant that stares back at him, and yet he wonders exactly what it is Thor sees in him. A moment of irrational fear that it will disappear when Loki manages to find his own way, and then he lifts his chin, glares at the insecure little brother there.

He will make his own way, and Thor will love him again – next time as an equal.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honored to admit that this found its way onto WTF Fanfiction, courtesy of the intersex gender-fuckery.  
> Not bad for my first work in the fandom. Not bad at all...


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